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By lopez sands
Don't Dig me Any Deeper: A NEW BEGINNING
I wake up with a new zest for life on the day I am to start work. I am actually looking forward to going to work for BROTHER, one of the new magazines targeting black men. I am looking forward to the challenges that await me. It has been over a year since, Aries died and I haven't looked forward to waking up in a long time. Even my work has begun to suffer. Nothing seems quite important to me. I still sometimes hear his voice calling me in the morning asking me if I want coffee or juice, or I wake up feeling his breath on my neck, only turning and opening my eyes to realize that he isn't there. Then grabbing the pillow and pushing my face into it to fight off the tears. It's hard for most people to understand what it's like for a person to watch the person that they love more then life itself, die right before their eyes and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. Death is a cruel beast. It takes more then that person, it takes a part of your soul and no matter what, and you know that you'll never get that part of you back. No matter how hard you try or no matter how much you plead.
As I walk into the office, I scout the room for all signs of intelligent life. I want to determine right away, who friends are and who foes are. But most importantly I want to see how I would fit in. The office is very motherland. From the colors that line the room down to the music playing over the sound system, none of the urban contemporary stuff but the kind of music that speaks slowly to your soul. I look around and I did not see a familiar face to be found, when this deep baritone voice comes from behind me.
"Well I'll be damn, Gabe, what's up nigger"
I turn to a face that I haven't seen in a while but one that helps get me the job. It is Wilson Wright. We went to college together at Columbia; he is two years ahead of me, three years older. He stands, smiling at me, with his white teeth glowing and his six-foot frame all worked up. He was thinner back in the day but that voice and that smile haven't changed.
"I'm glad you could make it"
Well so am I, I reply, as I look him over. Wilson has always been into doing what felt good, so in college we never are an item but a few times we did do what felt good. At the time, well the first time, I have a little guilt attached to the sex. I knew his girlfriend but it wasn't about that it was about what happen inside the bed for us. He did get me through a few lonely nights when I was without a significant other. Wilson problem he was never without a significant other and I think I liked that about him. Wilson is a very nice looking guy. He has very ethnic features. He still has those nice, massive thighs that are enhanced by the jeans he's wearing. His broad shoulders stand out just as I remember from our many fervent nights together in college.
"Well let me introduce you to a few of the fellows, we have a staff development meeting in a hour, so we'll go get a bite to eat next door and catch up."
All right, that's cool with me.
"Good, it's good to have you back among the living instead of that tired ass town you just comes from."
Atlanta isn't that bad.
"To visit maybe but I wouldn't want to live there"
His smile has always been so genuine, probably the only genuine thing about him when we first met. Wilson is a nice guy but we are friends. I have seen him use people up, in a quest to get what he wanted. At Columbia, he would use who ever are necessary. When I met him, I kind of was an ass to him. Ignored the hell out of him but one night we got high together at a party and we end up talking then I gave him a lift home. A week later we are fucking and he never tried to get anything from me besides my ass. I tried to figure out what he wanted but I never come up with anything. He backed off when he saw me with someone else. He once says that we are friends because we both have a drive. I think it is because we both would just let go in bed. The sex was good and all but he did come with his hang-ups.
"Gabe, this is Reggie, this is my boy, Gabe. He just comes back home from the south, Atlanta."
"Nice to meet you." These are the first words that I heard from lips of Reginald Hicks. "So you're joining our staff, I've read some of your stuff, pretty good."
Thanks. What did he mean pretty good?
"Listen, I have to go make a few phone calls but we'll talk again."
All right. And with that Reggie walks to the other side of the room. I watch with my ears and not with my eyes for a few seconds and when I look over, Reggie is looking back. Reggie is just a little taller then I am. Muscular body, not overly done, not perfect but extremely sexy. He has curly hair, natural; at least it appeared to be. He wears those nice frame glasses, the kind that let you know, I think I'm intelligent and I have everything going. They cover his slightly bushy eyebrows and magnify his dimples on his copper cheeks. His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles, and his perfect white teeth glisten to increase the attraction to his oversized lower lip. When he reaches his hand out to shake my hand, I noticed his long fingers, as they seem to massage the inside of my hand. They are beautiful hands, which are attached to slightly hairy arms. Everything about him seems to go together, except for his ears. They stand out, slightly larger then one would expect. This doesn't take away from his attractiveness, I don't think much could. He has a self-assured presence about him, one that I enjoy very much, from this brief meeting.
Next door at the little diner, which is filled almost to capacity, we sit in the booth, Wilson and I, smile at each other. It is good to have a familiar face to look at. It makes things a lot easier. The food smells so bad but I decide to order anyway. The waitress, some white girl with a little too make up that still haven't manage to hide her acne is being impatient with me. The more she huffs, the more I decide I need more time. I can't stand service people who don't like to serve. Her dingy white apron over her too tight black dress just accentuated her tacky nature. She must have left a watering job in Texas to do better things in the city, at least that's what I imagine from the southern drawl she manages throughout every "Have you decided yet sir?" Finally I decide on a chef salad with blue cheese and a cup of coffee. She gladly takes our menus and walk off to a less then stellar kitchen.
As I am calling her a bitch in my mind, I look over to see Wilson staring at me, with this stupid little grin on his face.
What, I ask.
"I am just remembering the first time we met."
It wasn't exactly, a nice meting.
"You're right, you were a real dick"
I know, did I ever say sorry?
"Many of times, many times."
You're still so damn silly. I meant that in the nicest way. He is right. He has been only one of the three people in my life that I had some continuous form of sexual contact. With the other two, I was making love. With Wilson we were fucking. Not that there is much difference besides the feeling. Both have their purpose and Wilson sure has a lot of purpose.
"Do you remember the first time we had sex."
Sure I do. Why do you ask?
"Just curious."
So how is that wife of yours?
"She's fine. We have two kids, two girls"
How old are they?
"Four and six. They are beautiful girls." He says as he removes his wallet to show me a picture of his family.
So what's up man?
"Nothing much. When you called about the job, it just brought up so old feelings. I wasn't sure how I would react to you"
And now?
"For now, it's just memories."
You know something's are better left memories.
"Don't get me wrong man; I love my wife and my two little girls. I would never do anything to put that at jeopardy. I never think about who I was back then. I haven't had sex with another man since our last time and I didn't think about it, until I heard your voice over the phone."
So what now?
"Like you say, it's a memory and I can't share every memory with my wife. She would never understand that at one time in my life, I loved another man", Wilson says. I'm sitting here for what seems an eternity. I'm confused. What had I missed? I thought I totally understood my relationship with Wilson. Now he says loved. I try to search my database for some sign. I am little taken back. I stare at him. I cared for Wilson, but I never thought it was love. We served a purpose for each other; he comforted me at a time in my life when I need it. Love? How could he have loved me, the only time there was any kind of connection was when we are in bed, outside of bed, our relationship, seems almost cold when it comes to intimacy. Sure we talked but not the way you do with someone you love, but the way friends talked. If he meant it that way, sure, I could see that form of love but not true love, not between us. I wanted to love him, I really did, but I never felt that was an option. I never felt that we could love one another that was not our role in life.
"Listen, I don't think a man could love another man, so that's why I just say it was sex but every time you would cool off, I would be hurt but I can't let you see that. I can't let you think I was weak or something. I wanted to tell you and I know its safer now to say I loved you then because things are different, but I truly did love you."
You are special to me too. All I want is your happiness.
"I hope we can become good friends again."
I would like that.
The food arrives at our table exactly at the moment that he put his hand over mine. People do grow. It's just it takes time. Time has done wonders for Wilson. He isn't the person, I remember but neither am I. As I eat, I did begin to think about the last time that I saw Wilson. He comes over to my apartment. I was leaving for Atlanta, in two days. He says he wanted to stop by to wish me well. We haven't has sex in about six months. We sit around talking about what is ahead of me. There is something different in him but I had just assumed I was being overly sensitive because I am leaving town.
Wilson and I lay in my bed watching, a football game. Then he kisses me. Not in the same way he can done so many times before, this is a kiss with such intensity as I look back on it. The way he stares in my eyes and he undresses me. Running his tongue over my body. Sex has always been one of his strong points. It was not as uncontrolled as all the other times; the passion is not as raw. I remember his lips moistening the inside of my thighs as his hand run up and down my body. As I lay there waiting for him to lift me, to enter me, it was a closeness that was not there before. His knee s l owly parts my inner thighs as he pulled me toward his erection. With a couple of tiny thrusts and one passionate one, he is inside me and we just sit there still for a second as the pleasurable pain shoot through my entire body. Then he looks at me, as if asking me if I am all right. I'm fine. He then lowers his head down to my lips and parts my mouth with his tongue. We kiss for what appeared to be hours. He then ran his tongue over my nipples and down to my belly button where he flicked his tongue in and out moistening me, then down the rest of stomach, where my dick stands patiently waiting. As his mouth covered me, I feel my body open up and him push deeper inside of me. He rose up and began to rock, gently laying me back onto the pillow as he plows my ass. My hand ran over his fur cover chest. Feeling his sculpture with the very tips of my claws. It is so potent, this night, so striking, so powerful. I rose up to him, his hands on my back, making it easier for me to ascend to his body. I wrapped my hands around him and he places his hands on my waist.
"Gabe, Gabe, its time to go."
Huh, what, I'm sorry.
"The meeting, we can to get going."
All right.
"You can to tell me someday where your mind was at." But I'm sure he knows. He was there. He created those memories for me. He reminded me of things that I had long ago put at the back of mind. Is that his purpose, to remind me of that last time? It is true, whenever I thought of Wilson, I always though of that last night.
It's a funny thing, that no matter how many days or years you spend with a person the thing you remember most is the last night you spend with them. You try to remember it all, the good times, the bad times, especially the good times, but when it is summed up the last time is always the most vivid. It takes a lot to hold on to all the memories but the final encounter, isn't that hard; it is the one that lingers, no matter how painful.
The meeting goes pretty well. Besides being the new guy everyone treated me with a lot of love. They say this doesn't happen in black communities, that it has somehow been lost. As a journalist I can tell you, the truth is that happens a lot more then we read or see but this isn't sellable and only crime, greed and corruption sell pap e rs or bring in viewers. My first assignment is to interview, Congressman Jesse Johnson Jr. They wanted me to profile him as the next great sensation since JFK. Of course I agreed but having not cared for his father very much, Jesse Jr. would not get the white glove treatment, at least from me. I would wear my dirty gloves and see if he could clean them. The managing editor and owner Eric Reynolds, a man in his early fifties but could easily pass ten years younger, calls me into his office to talk. I walk into many offices before and I am not the least bit intimidated by these people, but with Mr. Reynolds, you could smell the fragrance of intimidation coming from my pores.
As I enter the room, lined with awards and numerous journalism degrees from T emple and other fine institutions, I stand in awe of this man. He smiles and asks me to sit down. I oblige and sit in the first chair I can find. He takes off his dark navy suit jacket and makes his way to his desk, taking his seat. He begins to stare at me without saying a word. Finally a warm grin passes over his face and you could tell he is using caution with his words.
"There's no need to be up tight, we're friends and family here." Family I wonder if he really knows what this word actually mean to me. It is the great word politicians so causally toss off as sound bites in campaigns. Besides Michael, and more recently Aries, family is the last thing I would think of says pleasantly.
"I enjoyed your work, Bill spoke very highly of you, and you know we are brothers at Temple." It is hard to imagine the two of them being the same age. Bill is a thick balding man, who's idea of a work out is scoffing down a whole chicken in one sitting, using a couple of slices of cherry pie to do dumb bell lifts and washing it down with glasses of bourbon. Eric is the opposite, elegant, attractive and took care of himself. He is just the kind of man most women and men for that matter says no longer exist.
Thank you, I reply.
"Your piece on that serial killer, really caught my eye, how did you ever put the story together?"
Should I tell him? When I can decided that I would live as an openly, proud gay man, I know that I would live my entire life repeatedly coming out to people. It's not the most exciting moment but it is rewarding for me. I just never could tell how one might react. I've been through people rejecting me and blowing me off but over time, I chalked it up to ignorance but in work settings, I found an added pressure. I remember the first time after I started college, I told my best friend at the time because I don't want him to hear it for someone else. He don't blow up in front me, he just cut me out his life, that hurt but what hurt more was that he begin to tell everyone that I was friends with him because I wanted him. Most kids that we went to school with don't take him seriously; they laughed because they had always assumed that he was in love with me. They can't understand why I was his friend. My close female friends asked me had I rejected him. I told them no, I just told him I was gay.
I heard rumors, I told him, after doing some initial research, I figured there was something there, so I went for it.
"Bill says you have good instincts, and that I should trust them," he says, a s his eyes begin to intensify. "I want to change this magazine from a fluff piece that I brought three years ago. Wilson told me about your looking to move back here I gave Bill a call and he just went on and on about you."
Really, I never thought Bill went on and on about anything. I look at him while he shakes his head in agreement.
"Let me just make it clear, the reason, I brought you here is not to soften you up, but just the opposite, I need you to go after the story, while always reporting the facts."
I never make up anything, I just dig until there's nothing left to uncover.
"Good", he says with a smirk, "then you've heard of Jesse Jr. little bribery rumors?"
Yes I have. Believe me if there is anything there, he'll be put on the hot seat. I meant that but what I wouldn't hang our politicians out to dry like the mainstream white press has done for years, by overlooking the little white boys club and going after our leaders.
Eric goes on to talk about the way every time you turn on the television, there are two black politicians caught up in some scandal to every one white politician. When the numbers sitting on capital hill are, well reversed. He seem to be upset with this sort of deliberate targeting but he make it very clear that it did not mean we should ignore a crime just because it is one of own. I remember my father sitting in his big rocking chair talking about some of our leaders selling out as a child. Reading from the paper how someone took a bribe. He used to say, we have to play their game but they don't allow us to play by their rules. We can invent our own rules and play their game better, he use to say.
The rest of day went without a hitch, settling in, meeting a few more people and talking to them about my work in Atlanta.
The office would be a nice change from the battles I use to face at the Constitutional. Everyone wanted the front page and when I went full time because of my serial murder case, I was not welcome at the place and when my sexual orientation becomes office gossip because of my relationship with Aries, I thought I could not stand another minute at that place. Bill was there and he defended me. At first I thought it was because I was selling papers and breaking records with the coverage and even thought of taking a position with one of the local gay rags but Aries was there, he even offered to be less public. His love got me through a lot of tough times; I just hope he knows how much I loved him. He once joked before we becomes office gossip, that we attended so many benefits together and always seems to be the picture in articles, that we are being place out as the faces of the black gay community. At the time no one even know my face, at least not more then as the guy on the arm of Atlanta's gay men's health project director. That changed when the story went national. The things I could tell you. People can be so vindictive when they feel the spotlight isn't on them.
As I step out of my shower the doorbell rang and I grab my thick white towel, I have a fetish for cotton towels. I go to the door and there stands Simon, holding a bottle of wine. I haven't seen him or talked to him for two days. I am happy to see him and tell him to come in and make his self-comfortable, while I slip on some clothes.
"You don't have to, I actually like you just the way you are", he says with this naughty little grin on his face.
Just get a couple of glasses out of the kitchen and I'll be right back.
He really doesn't know how I have imagined the two of us together again. When we are younger it is kind of awkward to begin with. I was so nervous it kind of make the first time pretty uneventful, but when I look back on it, I think he set it all up. Actually I kind of know he did.
Looking back at the way he just happened to show up at my house that Sunday morning, my parents are at church, gone to some revival, they has told me and Michael that they wouldn't be back until that night. Michael has left with his flavor of the week; it's hard to remember all their names, since he went through so many of them. Simon comes into the house, teasing me in that way he always did. We sit on the couch, and begin to watch the Bulls and the Knicks in a classic game. This is the year before Jordan comes to the Bulls and the destiny was just a stone throw away.
"You've become an attractive young man, Michael tells me you've been going to the 'Y'", he says looking at me with this concentrated glare.
Well, I have to look good, I say jokingly.
"Well you look good", he says sarcastically.
I hit him because I know he is making fun of me, he grab me and we begin to wrestle, he has always been taller then myself and stronger, not that at that moment, I put up any fight. Here I am on my living room floor with the body of my crush of the last three years on top me. I stopped fighting and look up at him and our breathing is heavy and intense. I don't remember whether it was him or me but one of us kissed first and the other one made no effort to move. The next thing I know he is lifting me up and removing my clothes. I rose while he removed my gray gym shorts. He expelled his own shirt as I unbuckled his pants and removed them off along with his fruit of looms. He begins to suck on my neck then on my chest. He never goes below my waist with his mouth. We kisses some more and I rolled him over and begin to lick on him like he is some bowl of left over pudding that I wanted to clean. He grabs the top of my head and pushed it to his lower self and I open my mouth while he thrusts up ward inside of me. I begin to savor every taste and he quickly shot in my mouth that was the first time I have ever tasted cum. After he shot he rolled me over, and he begin to kiss me again, I feel his hand cover the middle of my dick, I wanted his mouth there so bad but I was afraid to mention that to him. He began to jack me off and I feel him again against my thigh.
We continued kissing and grinding but I think we both are afraid to go any farther then that. Afterwards he told me it couldn't happen again. It did and we progressed and Simon learned a lot. At least that's what I wanted to believe but I know the truth is that he already knew a lot. After another one of nights after he finally can given me oral sex, he told me has never done that to a guy before but by the time our affair ended, he did a lot of things that he never has done with other men. I make love to Simon and I thought he was making love to me but I realize with my experiences, that at that age, the only thing either is doing is getting your rocks off. Yes I did love him but Simon was not capable of returning that love. I knew I could love men but for some men the idea scares them and it takes a lot longer to realize that's it OK for them to feel that way. I am brought back to the present by Cassandra Wilson coming from my living room, I quickly button my shirt and make my way down to see what would be rekindle and what the night has planned for me.
As I make my way down the stairs, I stop for a moment to watch as Simon stares out of the window. I want to know what he is thinking. What are we doing? Is he nervous, I sure in the hell am. He stands in my window staring out with the streets shining back on him. Dressed in a pair of blue dress pants, with his white dress shirt and the mufti-colored tie on, his face appears so faultless. I seem somehow to be underdressed, in my white shirt and blue shorts. I straighten out my clothes and he turns around and gives me such an exquisite smile, showing all his pearly whites.
"I like your previous outfit a hell of a lot better," he says still glowing. I make my way down the rest of the flight of stairs and he approaches me. We meet at the center of my living room and he takes me in his arms. I am sweep away with such rapid emotions, I feel, as I would faint at any second. It is if I'm transported back to the first time. All the awkwardness of my youth and my first experience is reborn with an approach into his arms. It is all so real, so familiar, so breathe taking, yet it lacks an air of authenticity. I stand there in my living room, looking up into his eyes. Something begins to awaken in me, I haven't felt it this vividly before, this is new, and this has no connection to our past. It is deeper then a teenage folly. It frightens me. It increases in its pain; it is rushing to my heart. This is a dangerous place, so I have always thought.
I'm glad you came by.
"Me too." He grabs me by the hand lead me to my couch, hands me a glass of wine as I sit, staring up, watching him make his way beside me.
"So how was your first day at the office?"
Just fine, I think I'm going to enjoy being back in Chicago.
"I hope I can make your return more pleasant."
You're off to a good start, I tell him as I ease into his chest and he put his arm around me. I could stay like this forever. We talk about the office and he begins to tell me about his day. We seem to be going right into a familiar place. As often as I look up at him, it is no wonder that he doesn't get nervous, but he just keep touching my head and caressing my shoulder. He looks at me with such grace. It is if he can read my entire life in some great novel and now he is comforting me. He is telling me with every touch that he wants me. Maybe it is what I need, but I know it is what I want.
Cassandra continues to play on the CD player and we drink the entire bottle of wine and talk. We talk about our lives and for the first time, I feel like I would not just fall apart. I finally ask him about his ex-wife. He tells me her name is Sara and they met a year after I left town. So much of him has become a man that year he explains, but he still denied who he is out of fear. He tells about the most important day of his life when his son was born. He says, for years his son has been the only bright spot in his life.
"Until, now", he says looking me in my eyes. I think he is trying to read my soul but no one could do that no matter how much he reads through my eyes, not just yet. He kisses me and I kiss back. I make my way onto his lap and he take my glass and sit it down and then sit his down, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me closer, and closer, until I feel as if I'm going to fall into him. Then I stop.
"What's wrong", he asks.
Nothing. Nothing is wrong; I am a little frightened, not because I feel guilty but because I feel no guilt. Where is the guilt? I lean back into him and begin to kiss him, his tongue and mine are getting to know every inch and section our mouths. I stand up and lead him to my bedroom.
That night, after Simon falls asleep, I stand and watch a lone woman come up the street, her tight black leather jacket, with the collar up, protecting her neck. Looking back every so often as though she is frightened that she is being followed. Then a police car comes up the street, like an out of control brainless mutant. She watches the police car whizzing by, shaking her head in disbelief. Then it is empty, silent, and no one. The stillness that is growing powerful, soon resonant sounds of alarm clocks would begin to sound and the houses would evacuate the morning people. Then a thought crosses my head, a scene would now be occurring between the boy and a girl in some room, that they would be making love as I have spent the night doing. Is it love? I don't know, neither would they, it just sounds nicer to call it that. I head back to the comfort of my bed.
The next morning, I awake with this man beside me. He sleeps soundly at six in the morning and I sit on the bed, learning his body by sight, which I learned so well that night by touch and taste. He has this tiny little scar right under his belly button. His legs are slightly hairy but seem so powerful. It is hard to imagine this is the man, I wrapped my legs around that night and whose legs can been wrapped around me. His arms, those puissant and statuesque limbs that holds me and blown me into such an enormous height are laid, stretched out on my bed. He is so peaceful. The slight beard he is beginning to grow give his face a since of masculinity and soft beauty all at once. I lay back down onto those arms and he immediately wraps them around me.
I can't fall back to sleep. I have too much energy to sleep. My arm seem to move on it's own between his legs, grabbing for it and finding it and feeling it come alive in my hands. I look up at him and his eyes slowly open. I met them with a kiss and reach over into my drawer for the box of condoms I purchased at the local store after my brothers' party. I tore it open and put it on him as he watches, gently caressing my head. He lowers himself on me and takes his time. Kissing my neck and letting his tongue linger on my shoulder blade so profoundly. His head lowers, I know where he is by each kiss and I feel moisture as he engulfs me in his mouth. Feeling his tongue flicker on me as he enjoys me as I enjoy his mouth, I lower my head grabbing a hold of his, I pull him and he spreads my thighs with his knees and raises my body as his grandness enters me. The passion is there, the sex is also but not the love but that would come with time. After years of dining on love, you can not settle for anything less. I have loved him once and I feel that I could love him again. So as we rock back and forth, my mind goes away from the future for the present is good.
We shower together and we do not say much. After we dress, I watch him wondering again what is on his mind. He turns to me and pulls me on top of him. Looking lovingly into my eyes he says to me, "don't hurt me", those words "don't hurt me", I know what he means, he is going to try and not hurt me. He is reading my soul because the previous night with ever thrust; I repeated them silently into his soul. I lean down and kiss him and say what I know what he wants to hear, but I know my reply is his, he wouldn't try but people do hurt you, whether they're straight or gay, lover or family, they always hurt you in the end.